When I woke up today, the heating was nearly half a degree
out of whack, so I obviously had to some Shelleying. I told my boss I had
hypothermia and was in the spa by 9.30.
A sustained campaign of Shelleying had enabled Simon to write his first novel, a six hundred page meditation on one man’s struggle with devastating
haemorrhoids.
Person 1: “Man, I’ve not been in to work on a Friday for 15 years. I tell them I’m working from home, but I’ve totally cracked out the gin by mid-morning.”
Person 2: “Dude, that is some epic Shelleying.”